


we need (the warmth of the sun)

by iKain2



Series: I Don't Want To Be Your Super Hero No More [13]
Category: Vindictus
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Noir, F/M, Gen, Magical Realism, Murder, Police Procedural, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iKain2/pseuds/iKain2
Summary: [Modern AU Spinoff, Part 13] After the major success of Operation: Godslayer, Royal Army Intelligence Special Agent Delia’s next high-priority case is to collaborate with the Royal Police on the Berbhe Murders. There, she meets Detective Grimden Kasana, Captain of the Fomorian Investigative Crime Unit.
Relationships: Delia/Grimden (Vindictus)
Series: I Don't Want To Be Your Super Hero No More [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/71699
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**_6 Years Prior, Royal Army Intelligence Academy_ **

“—Breaking news, just in we have received word that the infamous Muir, also known as the dreaded Sea King Mannanan, is confirmed to be executed as of eight o’clock this evening by the Royal Army. For those who somehow aren’t aware, Muir was the lead Fomorian in charge of the attack on the Rocheste Tower three days ago, which claimed the lives of fifteen Royal Police officers and twenty-four civilians. At this time, we are preparing to hear the Royal Decree coming from High Court Pontiff Laurys in twenty minutes…”

While the TV droned on in the background, Delia yawned as she clicked through various other news footage of the attack of Rocheste Tower, her pencil idly tapping at her notes. Her final paper on the effects of psychological trauma stemming from Fomorian-related warfare was due in two days and she hadn’t found a photo to reference that wasn’t gruesome or visibly showed the deceased. She needed something that was poignant, but also wasn’t going to mentally scar external readers if she was able to get it published in the Academy’s prestigious scholarly journal.

After a few more clicks, she stopped. Her eyes were drawn to a particular image on the second-to-last page.

The picture was taken from a distance, but luckily it wasn’t blurry thanks to the high-quality.

A young man that looked to be around her age sat hunched over on a chunk of rubble, with his Royal Army police cap by his booted feet. His arms were resting on his knees, knuckles torn and bleeding. Patches of Fomorian ichor and soot from the smoldering remains had settled onto his silver-blond hair and ripped uniform jacket. The way he was sat hid most of his face away from the camera, but he was clearly looking in the direction of a bloodstained stretcher on the ground nearby where a still form laid, covered by a solemn white sheet.

Without a doubt he was affected by the chaos and the death around him at a place many would previously consider completely untouchable and safe until the gigantic Fomor attacked. The caption underneath the image read: **Royal Police Officer after digging through the Rocheste Tower rubble.**

Delia saved the picture. She found what she needed, but the haunting afterimage of the young man all would stay with her for months after she graduated with full honors from the Royal Army Intelligence Academy.


	2. Chapter One

**_One Year After Operation: Godslayer…_ **

It was pouring heavily when Delia arrived at the Ben Chenner Trailhead. The silent flashing blue-red lights of a handful of Royal Police vehicles and the high-luminosity floodlights cut through the curtain of rain. Delia watched as her ride – a nondescript black Buick with government-exempt plates – reversed out of the rocky area and left towards the main roads, leaving her alone.

A large black tent was placed around the crime scene, obscuring everything from plain view. At the police tape set around the perimeter, a drenched officer stopped her.

“Miss, this is an active crime scene.”

“Special Agent Delia from the Royal Army Intelligence. I’m the contact assigned to assist with this case as of tonight.” Pulling out her credentials for inspection, Delia glanced at the police woman’s nametag. “Officer Miri, I’d like to speak with the officer in charge of this scene.”

After giving Delia’s badge and ID a thorough look, Officer Miri pointed over her shoulder at the tent with a miserable, half-hearted smile that would’ve been more reassuring if she hadn’t been standing out in the icy rain for the past two hours. “The Captain and the ME’s in there. Good luck, Special Agent.”

Delia ducked under the police tape and headed for the tent, her boots sloshing through the mud. It wasn’t until she got closer to a floodlight that she realized it wasn’t just mud and rainwater – there was a good amount of black Fomorian ichor and human blood splattered all over the place. She opened the flap to the tent, covering her nose from the stomach-roiling smell of burnt and charred meat.

“—and here, just from the filled-in back molars, we can determine that this is most likely Culann, the motel owner reported missing 48 hours ago. It matches the ID report we received from Gertrude before she— ” Dr. Blawynn turned around at the disturbance, and then smiled politely. “Oh, Special Agent Delia! It’s nice seeing you again, although I’d hoped it be in better… circumstances.”

“The same to you, Dr. Blawynn.” Delia couldn’t take her eyes off the corpse arranged artfully in the center of the tent.

Several decorative spears had been thrust through the torso and legs, holding up the victim in a half-reclined pose that would have seemed natural if it weren’t for how gruesome it was. His arms and hands were tied with a thin golden chain to a single spear, giving the victim the impression of raising his hands to the sky in prayer.

The man’s eyes were completely burnt away, leaving behind two empty eye sockets staring upwards towards to a waning white moon. Two trails of coagulated blood and dried Fomorian ichor stained his bloodless cheeks.

A latex-gloved hand holding a pair of clean examination gloves entered Delia’s vision, drawing her attention away from the grotesque display.

A tall man with silver-blond hair, dressed in a waterproof navy Royal Police jacket over a black officer’s uniform, gave her a quick once-over glance. His expression was unreadable even to her own trained look. “Agent Zenith, I am Captain Kasana, the lead on this case. You may want to put these on before doing anything else.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Delia took the proffered gloves, swallowing back the bile that had crawled up her stomach just from looking at the victim. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen this officer somewhere else, previously, but he wasn’t giving any indication that he thought the same way. Perhaps the shock was messing with her senses.

“Dr. Blawynn, please continue your current report.” Grimden wasted no time in continuing his careful inspection of the decorative spears and scribbling down notes.

Delia shifted into work mode as Dr. Blawynn began reporting on the estimated time of death. Connecting the dots and drawing the lines to create airtight cases ready for prosecution by the High Court was her specialty, and damned if she was going to let the Royal Police get ahead of her.

“The report I received on the way here suggested that we may be dealing with a potential serial killer.” Delia noted down that the victim had likely still been alive before being impaled, based on the amount of blood around the display. There were signs of an attempt at a struggle – drag marks on the ground and bits of Fomorian ichor in his fingernails – but otherwise it looked like the man had been easily overpowered and subdued.

“There was only a single case before this one, but it did not involve a public display such as this one, so we can’t call this a serial killing just yet. We could be on the trail of a fledgling Fomorian killer, or possibly a rogue Fomorian agent dissatisfied with the current power vacuum – especially since the most recent raid by the RAI definitely caused upheaval amongst the main forces. Either way, at this time, it is unknown if the suspect is human or a Fomorian.”

The very matter-of-fact remark directed towards Delia had her turning to look at Grimden. “What do you mean that the suspect is indeterminate? Clearly a Fomorian had to have done this…”

Frowning slightly, Grimden straightened and looked Delia right in the eyes. “Is this your first time in Berbhe, Special Agent?”

Delia stubbornly kept her gaze, unflinching against the piercing stare. “Yes. What does that have to do with this case, Captain?”

Grimden shook his head, taking off his examination gloves. The snap of the latex was loud against the backdrop of rain beating against the tent. “Special Agent, let’s head back to the Forward Operating Site back in Berbhe. It seems that I need to review the other details of this case with you in depth before we discuss further findings. Dr. Blawynn, I trust that you can take care of this scene?”

Dr. Blawynn, absorbed in her mutterings and elbow-deep into the chest cavity of the deceased victim, gave the both of them a bright (but distracted) smile. “I’ll be fine, it’s not like I can get infected. I’ll have my report and everything transported over to the FOS in… let’s say, two hours?”

“Copy that, Doctor.” With a very careful hand on Delia’s shoulder, Grimden steered her out of the tent. “Do you have a vehicle at the moment, Special Agent?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Follow me then. I’ll take you to the FOS.” The rain continued pouring down, but a concerned Officer Miri hurried over with an opened RP-issued umbrella.

“Captain, the media’s here. Can I get your permission to shoo them away?” With a genuine smile that was at odds with her earlier morose expression, Officer Miri handed the umbrella over to Grimden.

“Yes, that would be appreciated. Thank you, Miri.” Heading in the direction of a parked police vehicle while still steering Delia away from the tent, holding the umbrella over her. He seemed unconcerned about getting wet.

Delia didn’t miss the micro-expression of caution and distrust that Officer Miri directed towards her before it disappeared into a placid smile. Between blinks, Delia could have sworn that her black eyes had flashed crimson for a split second. The officer saluted and walked over to where a handful of media reporters were huddled together against the police tape.

Once inside the thankfully dry police vehicle, Grimden started the car and began driving back towards the main city of Berbhe. He turned down the volume of the police radio, the voices of the dispatchers mixing into the background of the car’s soft rumbling. The dim lighting of the dispatch screen affixed to the main console cast part of the interior of the police car in a sickly pale blue light.

“Berbhe is not formally under the jurisdiction of Tir Na Nog government, but we classify it as a dependent neutral territory. Fomorians who have defected from the main forces are sent here after High Court proceedings. The entire city of Berbhe is comprised primarily of defectors and Nemedians – half-human, half-Fomorian.”

Delia took in the new information, her eyebrows furrowing. The darkened and boarded-up houses and shops that they passed by appeared uninviting and decrepit. “Neutral territory? Is that even possible between us and them?”

“Usually these Fomorians handle their own affairs, and we mostly leave them alone as long as they don’t cross over the border between Berbhe and any other human city without a cleared Visa. However, the Royal Police was called into the area after we received a formal request for an investigation by their sovereign, the first defector, Queen Regina. Three weeks ago, it was clear that a chemical weapon targeting the defected Fomorians and Nemedians – making them go berserk, essentially – had been released into city’s water supply. Humans are immune based on the infection’s composition, but there’s no guarantee that whoever’s doing this won’t soon turn to humans afterwards.”

“The victim tonight… he wasn’t human?” Delia recalled the scene clearly in her mind. There was a lot of Fomorian ichor, but also what was clearly human blood.

“All Fomorians taking sanctuary in Berbhe are required to take medication that changes their biological makeup into something more human-like and weakens their Fomorian attributes. Culann had been a low-ranking black Gnoll, based on his records.” The leather of the steering wheel creaked under Grimden’s hands.

A few minutes later, they pulled into the Royal Police’s temporary Forward Operating Site – an abandoned two-story office complex. The rain had subsided from a downpour into more of a dour drizzle by this time.

A man huddled underneath the overhang finished lighting up a cigarette once the car was parked, a black cane hanging from his elbow. The yellow light coming from between the blinds of the nearest window cast long blocks of shadows across the front doors of the building, obscuring the man’s features. Once Grimden and Delia walked closer to the entrance, it was clear who this man was.

“Apologies for keeping you waiting, Governor von Leon. We’ve just returned from a crime scene.” Delia moved first to shake the Governor’s hand. If he was here, things were more serious than previously expected.

“Governor, what brings you to Berbhe?” When prompted, Grimden also shook the man’s hand.

The thin trail of smoke from Gallagher’s cigarette wafted up into the dark skies above. Despite his casual demeanor and blunt words, the dark circles underneath the man’s eyes did little to hide how much of the High Court’s political pressure was gnawing at him.

“I Just came by to check on the progress, although I see that the Royal Army Intelligence finally decided to jump in. We need all the hands we can get to stop this sonuvabitch before they decide to move out of this city and into Rocheste or Colhen. The High Court’s been up my ass about this, so I’m hoping that the best detective in my jurisdiction has some good news for me?”

With his mouth pressed into a thin line, Grimden gestured towards the doors of the FOS. “Let’s discuss the new developments inside.”

The interior of the Forward Operating Site looked much better than it did on the outside. The furnishings were simple, consisting of metal desks piled high with files and paperwork, office chairs, and a few sofas crammed into what was previously an open work space surrounded by concrete pillars. The yellow lighting from the ceiling lights was soft and hazy. The blinds were drawn down on all the windows for privacy, and the neon signs from the business behind the building cast alternating patterns of colored light throughout the interior.

At the very back was a large whiteboard with photo and paper print-outs stuck to it and whiteboard marker scribblings. Several large containers marked EVIDENCE in bold marker print sat to left side of the room, while to the right side was what looked to be a small break-room and a set of stairs leading up to what were most likely a makeshift lounge.

A young man with shaggy auburn hair and mouse-like eyes with dark circles underneath looked up from where he was organizing several bins filled with what looked to be evidence bags filled with bloodstained clothing and various other belongings of the victims. He quickly snapped into a salute when he realized that the Governor and a RAI Agent was here.

“Captain, there hasn’t been any news on the any other suspicious sightings so far. Radio’s quiet tonight, even after what happened. Just the usual Internet chatter.”

“Hmm.” Grimden shook off his wet jacket and hung it on the coat rack. He did the same for the Governor’s and Delia’s coats. “I’ll take over from here. Go home, Arthyen. It’s already 11 o’clock.”

“Sir…” The young officer wrung his hands, barely holding back a sleepy yawn. “I’m almost done with the catalog—”

“Go home.” Grimden’s careful tone turned low and far more serious, almost a rumble.

Delia felt an unfamiliar tingle of electricity go down her spine. In the dim light of the office, the sharp edges of the Captain Kasana looked ghostly and… _attractive_ , for a lack of a better term, but this was neither the time nor the place.

The young officer swallowed and then saluted stiffly. He turned around and started rummaging around for his things near the desk piled high with evidence boxes.

Grimden led the Governor and Delia towards the far back of the main room, where the whiteboard was. He gestured for them to take a seat on the chairs available and then pulled out a small black notebook from the back pocket of his uniform pants.

“As Agent Zenith is new to the case, I’ll start from the beginning.” He gestured to the top of the flowchart – a red circle outlined around the words **_Regina – Tainted Water_**.

“Three weeks ago, our unit received a summons from Queen Regina over concerns of a targeted attack against the Fomorians in Berbhe. A team of her researchers doing a routine test of the water quality in the city discovered strange impurities in it. Upon further investigation, the impurities were confirmed to be of a synthetic strain of highly-concentrated night shade – also known as the Schedule I manufactured drug, Bloody Shade. When ingested by Fomorians, even in small amounts, they can exhibit symptoms of mania, paranoia, and uncontrolled aggression within two to three days. Until the chemicals are flushed out completely, it is safe to assume that any Fomorians or Nemedians under the influence of this substance have the potential to commit great acts of violence with very little provocation.”

Delia recalled the Royal Police barriers and checkpoints set around all the entrances to Berbhe. “The city is in lockdown until the perpetrator is arrested, essentially?”

“Yup. Only those carrying the Governor’s Seal can enter and leave the zone. Here’s yours, Agent.” Gallagher tossed over a metal badge that had the symbol of the Governor’s Office – a hawk outstretched in front of two crossed swords. Then, he reached into his pocket again and tapped out a cigarette from a crushed box, lighting it up. His cane tapped against the floor in an impatient staccato of noise.

The frown line of Grimden’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly at the smoke. He gestured to the next section of the whiteboard – a blown-up map of Berbhe itself, with several points of interest marked in red circles. “For the past two weeks, my unit has been investigating the water distribution areas discovered have been tampered with. At the last site in Ben Chenner, we found our first murder victim – a vampire – at approximately 1530.”

Grimden tapped at the next picture. Above it in blocky letters was **GERTRUDE - VAMPIRE (POC MACKLIN/JORNIN)**.

“Gertrude, reported missing by Macklin and Jornin. She had been looking for her adoptive granddaughters on a nightly basis, who had also been reported missing one week ago, but when she did not return for three nights, we received a report from her next-door neighbors.”

Delia inwardly cringed away from the grotesque 8”x 8” print out of the crime scene. The vampire had been beheaded and staked through the chest with a spear – the exact same one she had seen holding up the most recent victim tonight. The separated head showed that her eyes had also been burnt out, leaving nothing but empty eye sockets staring out towards nothing. From the half-charred state of her remains, she had likely been out in the sunlight for at least one day.

“Below the body, we found a message. Unfortunately, running it through our databases didn’t bring up any results on the handwriting end, nor with fingerprints.”

The picture of the message clearly read: **_THERE IS NOWHERE FOR TRAITORS TO HIDE_**

“At this time, the case of Gertrude’s missing granddaughters is still active. I have one of my informants looking into potential leads at this time – he should be reporting in tomorrow on his progress.”

Delia stared at the smaller 4”x 4” picture of the vampire Gertrude and her two twin granddaughters, smiling and hugging each other underneath the words **REMA/ROMA - WEREWOLVES (STILL MISSING)**. The two young women, barely out of their teens, looked innocent and full of life. Delia hoped that if she found them, they would still be alive.

“At approximately 21:00 tonight, we received a call from the victim’s roommate, Enok, about finding Culann’s body not far from the Temple’s grounds.” Grimden grabbed a marker and scribbled into the empty space underneath the existing flowchart: **CULANN - GNOLL (POC ENOK)**.

From his black notebook, Grimden pulled out a small 3”x3” picture of what tonight’s murder victim looked while he had still been alive and used a magnet to secure it onto the whiteboard. The young, pale man in the picture was looking off to the side of the camera, holding an armful of firewood. Next to him was an even paler, almost ghost-like, young man with gray hair holding a heavy leather-bound tome. 

“From what we can see from prior reports, neither of the victims at this time have any connection with each other beyond being Berbhe Fomors, but we do know that they had defected from the main force around the same time – approximately 6 years ago.”

“Another one…” Gallagher blew out a ring of smoke. “You sure your contact has good info, Captain? We need a break in this case soon – not more bodies, if we can help it.”

“He’ll have something.” Grimden snapped his black pocket book shut, not elaborating beyond that. “The final autopsy report on Culann should be completed and sent your way in a few hours, Governor. Until then, we’ll keep looking at what we have – there’s always something that gives killers away, we just haven’t found it yet.”

“Alright then.” Gallagher stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and stood up, cracking his neck. “I’ll let both of you to it. You know the drill, anything new, let me know as soon as you can. No heroics either - call the CBDC if any Fomors start attacking or whatever, since they’re the combat specialists. That goes for you too, Special Agent. I had to pull some strings to get someone here from the Royal Army Intelligence in the first place, and normally I’d say to knock it off with the department posturing bullshit, but it looks like we all lucked out this time.”

“Yes, sir.” Grimden and Delia echoed, each of them sparing a careful glance at the other.

While watching the Governor saunter over to the entrance of the FOS, Delia held out her hand for a formal handshake. “As we are going to be working together on this case, call me Delia.”

Grimden took her hand firmly, the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Grimden Kasana, at your service.” 


	3. Chapter Two

Delia startled from her doze when something light clinked onto the desk, right by her arm. At closer inspection, it was a simple ceramic mug of freshly-brewed coffee that wasn’t scalding hot, but it wasn’t cold either – just the right temperature to start drinking immediately. Rubbing at her bleary eyes, she turned to look at the desk next to her unofficial one.

Setting down his own mug of coffee, Grimden sat down in his chair, the action completely silent. He put on a pair of rimless glasses and picked up a report from one of the neatly-organized stacks of paper on the desk. It didn’t take long until he started writing again, the rhythmic scratching of pen on paper almost sending her back to sleep.

The clock on the wall clearly read 6:00 AM. Her back hurt from sleeping hunched over the desk, although the Royal Police-issued scratchy throw (usually for trauma victims) covering her was an unexpected surprise. Delia re-read the additions to her case notes:

**_Timeline_ **

_1 st Vic: Gertrude (vampire) – Ben Chenner Entrance, speared through chest, beheaded_

  * _Hidden away from main trails, discovered by tracking dogs_
  * _Listed legal guardian of 2 werewolves – Roma and Rema (both missing for 3 days at this time)_
  * _Eyes burnt out_
  * _POC for initial missing person report: Macklin (undead pirate) and Jornin (Gremlin from Moonlight Peaks), at Forge (automechanic)_



_2 nd Vic: Culann (black gnoll) – Ben Chenner Trailhead, speared several times _

  * _5 days from 1 st Vic – pattern?_
  * _same MO as 1 st Vic, weapons match (spears) _
  * _displayed publicly in trail area with most foot traffic_
  * _Eyes burnt out as well_
  * _POC for initial missing person report: Enok (white gnoll), at Temple_



**_Next steps_ ** _:_

  * _Follow up on other missing persons leads, potential victims_
    * _Roma and Rema (unknown location last seen)_
    * _Enok (roommate) and Lechaud (Priest at the Berbhe Temple)_



**_Suspect theories:_ **

  * _Must have some sort of damaging light source_
  * _Tools and vehicles to move victims without attracting attention_
    * _Multiple suspects?_
  * _Targeting Fomorian traitors – possibly a Fomorian Army sympathizer?_



Delia stifled a yawn into her coffee, taking a hearty gulp of the much-needed caffeine. “Did you even go to sleep at some point?”

“No, but more importantly, my informant got back to me half an hour ago. Once you’re ready, we can head out.” Grimden sipped from his own mug.

“Give me a few minutes.” Delia got up from her chair, folding up the scratchy throw carefully and setting it on top of the desk. She headed over to the restroom adjoined to the break room, taking the time to freshen up.

There was an orange medicine bottle on the side of the sink, on its side. It had fallen out of sight by a stack of unopened soap bar packages. She picked it up, examining the half-empty prescription.

_KASANA, G._

_RIZATRIPTAN, 30mg_

_TAKE ONE TABLET BY MOUTH EVERY 12 HOURS_

Delia brought the bottle back with her to the main room.

“I think this is yours?”

Grimden was in the middle of shrugging on his jacket. He went very still. “Where did you find that?”

“It was on the sink in the restroom.” Delia handed it over, trying to avoid showing any interest despite her curiosity. She would search up what that prescription was later; for now, they had a job to do and leads to follow up on. “You driving?”

Grimden pocketed the bottle quickly. His hands were steady as he grabbed the keys to the car and his phone. “My contact is waiting for us at Caryl’s. You have your Seal, Agent?”

Delia patted her coat pocket. “All ready to go, Captain.”

* * *

Caryl’s Bar, despite its name, was not only just a bar. As the local favorite of the Royal Police stationed just a few streets down, the establishment also served breakfast and lunch for officers that unlucky ones working absurd schedules and shifts.

When Grimden and Delia walked in, there were only a handful of other officers eating their meals. At the bar counter, a familiar face finished pouring out a fresh mug of coffee for a patron.

“Delia! It’s been too long – how have you been?” Wearing a black apron over casual clothes, Hurk grinned from behind the counter. The past year out of the employ of the Royal Army Intelligence seemed to have treated him very well.

“I’m good.” Delia took a seat, smiling genuinely.

“Feel free to take a look at the menu if you’d like.” Hurk turned to Grimden, still grinning but holding out a mug of coffee. “Officer Zombie, eat any brains this morning?”

Grimden sat down, accepting the mug with a long-suffering sigh that held unspoken volumes of a history between himself and this nuisance of a man. “I’m here for work. Got any news for me?”

“Party pooper, always ruining my fun.” Hurk leaned over the counter, turning serious immediately. “I caught wind of reports on some strange noises and lights happening in Regina’s Garden last night. Some cops had been called but they all came back saying it was all quiet. I don’t know what’s going on in Berbhe, and you probably shouldn’t tell me, but my gut tells me that something definitely happened in that garden. Officially, it was listed as a noise complaint and it’s not being followed up on since RPD doesn’t have jurisdiction there – but with the RAI in this now, I’m sure you both will be fine.”

“What time, approximately?” Grimden’s black pocketbook made an appearance as he immediately started writing.

“11 PM. I’m surprised that no one’s contacted you yet about this, especially since it took place at the head honcho’s residence.”

Delia sipped from her own coffee, frowning deeply. “We were at another scene at that time. Perhaps that had been a distraction… our target likely knows that there’s an investigation going on.”

“We need to pay a visit to the Queen. If something happened in her garden, she would know about it – and something must be going on, if she didn’t alert us immediately and instead called RPD. She knows we’re active in the area.”

Before they could get up to leave to follow this new lead, Hurk held up a hand. “That’s not the end of it, though. I also got a tip from a friend that something’s also going on in the Jardin – you know that club, right?”

At Delia’s raised eyebrow, Grimden elaborated. “The Jardin is a nightclub in Berbhe’s downtown district. One of the few businesses still mostly open during this lockdown… it has legitimate papers, but we’ve had our suspicions based on the… clientele.”

Hurk crossed his arms, his hushed voice getting even quieter. “My friend said there’s something like a drug lab going on there in the back. Not too sure what’s being made, but it can’t possibly be good. Might be worth taking a look at.”

“That might be our lead for what we know about the water source problems.” Delia glanced at Grimden, smiling at the prospect of not just one, but two breakthroughs.

Grimden pocketed his notepad, a determined expression on his face. “What’s your friend’s name – just so we know who to keep an eye out for in the Jardin?”

Hurk grinned widely. “You won’t miss her – her name is Eira. Drop my name, and she’ll know what to do.”

* * *

The Queen’s Compound was eerily silent as they reached the front gates of the sprawling three-story mansion. Just beyond the tall front gates was a massive and well-maintained garden of crooked willow trees, trimmed shrubs, and glowing white flowers.

“There should be her guards out here, patrolling. Something’s wrong.”

Grimden parked the car at the front gates. He reached for the center console’s storage and opened the compartment. A relatively innocuous RPD-standard pistol was securely attached, along with an extra magazine of ammunition.

Delia frowned. She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached into her shoulder holster, pulling out her own RAI-issued handgun. “I hope we won’t need to use these.”

At the small electronic lock box for the front gate, Grimden took out a small keycard and scanned it. The gates slid open with a screeching of metal on metal. At Delia’s look, Grimden handed the keycard over to her.

“The Queen provided these to our unit, just in case we had to get into contact with her. She’s not too fond of phones, but I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to use it until the case was solved.”

The trek up to the front doors was short. The lack of even the simplest of noises beyond their footsteps crunching on the gravel – not even the sounds of small animals scurrying around the front gardens or the wind rustling leaves – crawled uncomfortably up the both of their spines. The skies above were dark and overcast, as if threatening to start pouring anytime soon.

Grimden rang the doorbell. An ancient chime echoed through the building. After a minute, there was still no response. He knocked on the front door.

“Queen Regina? We have some questions to ask you. We’d like to come in to talk to you—"

When his fist met the wood a second time, the door creaked open slightly – it was not locked at all. He pushed it open with one hand, the other reaching for his holstered pistol at his waist.

Delia’s assumed a readied stance with her own gun, the safety off.

The foyer was scattered with the rotting, bloated dead bodies of the Queen’s guard. In death, the Fomorian Army defectors had reverted to their true forms – gnarled and twisted wood elves, covered in ichor-splattered fungus and moss. The most striking sight were of their eyes – or lack thereof; their eyes had been burnt out, leaving nothing behind except for charred ashes and crumbling eye sockets.

Delia’s arm immediately went up to cover her nose from the stench, her eyes watering just from how foul the scene smelled. Grimden took point, keeping his eyes moving, watching the doorways and entrances with his gun ready.

Slowly and methodically, the two of them cleared the rooms as they passed, finding more and more of the Queen’s massacred guardsmen with their eyes burnt out.

The opulent dining room was quiet when they entered. On top of the dining table was a pair of regal feathered wings splattered with fomorian ichor. At its full 10-foot wide wingspan, it covered much of the wooden dining table, the ragged stumps from where they had been severed from a back still visible.

A droplet of black ichor dripped onto Delia’s boot. She looked up, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the Queen’s body, twisted and broken to splay across the chandelier in a mockery of flight. Four familiar-looking spears kept her pinned in place, and the empty, burnt out sockets dripping black ichor burned itself into the Delia’s depths of nightmares.

The creak of a door swinging open had Delia tearing her gaze away from Queen Regina’s grotesque display.

To her right, Grimden had opened up the backyard garden door. Delia quickly walked over. When she saw what the garden had revealed, she lowered her gun and one of her hands went to cover her mouth in horror.

After a long, silent moment of staring out into the garden, Grimden holstered his pistol and pulled out his phone. The expression on his face had settled into something cold and unreadable as he dialed a number.

“Doctor? We have new ones. Queen Regina’s garden.”


	4. Chapter Three

“Time of death estimated between 11 PM and 3 AM, no more than 12 hours ago. The bruising around their wrists and necks were done pre-mortem – they were brought here to display. I would say that the silver was what ultimately weakened them, and then the perp finished them off with their eyes and snapped their necks. They suffered for a while” With an expression of carefully-constructed detachment, Dr. Blawynn shut the file closed with a snap. She adjusted her glasses, peering closely at two figures wrapped around the single, withered tree in Queen Regina’s garden of glowing white flowers.

The two missing girls, Roma and Rema, had been tied to the tree with thick silver chains around their wrists and necks. They were embracing the tree, arms outstretched as they slumped forward with their cheeks resting against the bark.

They would have looked peaceful, as if they were simply sleeping, were it not for the charred eyes or the open wounds that the silver had melted through their clothes and into their skin and bones.

To Delia’s right, Governor von Leon shook his head. He tapped out a cigarette but didn’t light it, gnawing it between his teeth. His hands were shaking minutely. His cane was missing, as he had rushed over in a hurry. “Captain, Special Agent… tell me you have something here. We can’t keep being one step behind.”

“We have one more lead – a contact in the Jardin. We might be able to find out what’s behind the water impurities causing the Fomorians in the city to go berserk. From there, we might be able to find a clearer trail leading to the killer – whoever they are, they’re either behind this water tainting, being affected by it, or using the situation as a distraction.” Delia cleared her throat. Some color had returned to her pallor, as long as she didn’t stare at the crime scene for too long.

“Follow up on that. I need something good to sell to the High Court, and soon.” Gallagher with a stiff nod and a final glance at the crime scene, the Governor shuffled away, ducking underneath the yellow tape and heading back through the gate leading to the palace’s front garden.

Grimden turned to Dr. Blawynn. “I trust you’ll be closing this scene up?”

“Got it, Captain.” The medical examiner waved her hand in their direction. “I’ll have the full report on your desk in a few.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” After glancing at his phone, checking the time, Grimden gestured to his car. “The Jardin should be open now. We should go, while the opportunity is still present.”

Delia nodded, silent as she read Grimden’s odd micro-expressions and body language. Anyone else would have flinched at the violence and bloodshed, or at least have had some kind of reaction at all, but the impassive expression on Grimden’s face didn’t change as they got into the car. He started driving, although he did roll down a window when they were at a stop light to light up a cigarette with steady hands.

It was as if he was not affected by the horrors they had just witnessed in the past 12 hours and beyond.

“How long have you been with RPD, if you don’t mind me asking?” Delia tentatively asked. Perhaps he had seen worse, and this was really just a normal day for the Fomorian Investigative Crime Unit.

Grimden glanced at her briefly. It was a long moment before he responded with a simple, “Six years. I’ve been Captain in this specific unit for two, after the restructuring.”

“How often do you run across these kinds of cases?” Delia looked out the window, watching the sun starting to set across the horizon. She felt the day’s events weighing down on her, but her work wasn’t over yet. She probably wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, either – closing her eyes might just invite terrifying nightmares.

Grimden was silent for even longer after this question, choosing his answer carefully. “People seem to have forgotten that we are still at war. Fomorian crime isn’t exactly rare in the cities… but to the extent of this kind of violence, and those they would still consider a part of their own race? This is something else, usually reserved for the places outside of our jurisdiction’s gates and walls.”

He got out of the vehicle quickly once they had parked in the Jardin’s parking lot, effectively closing in the door on this particular conversation. Delia followed suit, making sure to keep her weapon concealed. The sun was setting against their backs, casting violent orange rays against the deepening blues of the night time sky. The yellow lights of the street lights flickered on, signaling the start of Berbhe’s neon night life. Grimden dropped his cigarette and crushed it underneath his boot.

“Halt.” A dark-skinned man with electric blue hair and eyes stopped them at the front. “IDs.”

Grimden pulled out his Governor’s Seal. Delia did the same. “RPD, we’re just doing a check up. You got your papers yet?”

The man looked around, and then pointed at the front door that vibrated from the heavy bass pounding through the building. “Want no trouble. Boss Lady inside, if talk.”

“Thanks, Dullahan.”

The inside of the Jardin was a pulse-pounding, neon affair of steel gray, black, and purple accents and furniture. The bar was to the far right and there were some individual dancing platforms to the left. Most of the floor was taken up by sleek sofas and a large dance floor with rotating colors. It was crammed full of drunks and dancers spending money and generally having a fun time.

A woman with long, shockingly white hair with bangs colored a light pink strutted up to Grimden and latched herself onto his arm, smiling seductively. “Hi handsome, want a dance?”

Delia felt this sudden and incredibly unprofessional urge to tear this woman’s hands off.

The woman looked at Delia, giving her a calculating look from head to toe, and continued, “I can do two at once for an extra price—”

Grimden gave her what was possibly the most uninterested and unimpressed look to have ever graced a man’s face in the presence of a beautiful woman clinging onto him. “Are you Eira?”

“You know my name!” The woman, Eira, didn’t give up and only curled closer towards him, making sure to display her assets more prominently. “Did one of my clients refer you?”

“Hurk said you might have some information that would be valuable to someone in my line of work.”

“That idiot? Ugh, why does he always send me the all-business types… or the gay ones.” Immediately, the woman pouted. She still held onto his arm though. “I do have info… but you should probably buy me a private room if you’d like to talk.”

“How much.”

“Well…” Eira trailed a well-manicured nail along Grimden’s jawline. “Usually, an hour costs—"

Delia cut in, annoyance creeping into her voice. “How about you show us to a private room and I don’t arrest you for obstructing justice?”

Eira huffed, but did finally let go of Grimden. She smirked as she led the two of them towards the rooms behind the dance floor. “Can’t fault someone for trying to make a living, but you should really get your girlfriend to relax.”

Grimden strategically ignored that comment. Delia fought the angry red flush that threatened to crawl up her face.

“I’ve temporarily looped this room’s camera and audio feeds, so we should be fine for our conversation.” Eira led them to a private room that had a bed and several sofas. She plopped down on the bed, crossing her legs in a way that would make most men pull out their wallets. “So, the idiot’s sent you two here. This is probably about the killings and the water supply, right?”

“Correct.” Grimden remained standing, although he did nod. He pulled out his pocketbook.

“I’ve narrowed it down to three possible places hiding whoever’s been running around being murder-happy _and_ I’ve located the lab making that nasty drug that’s been mixing with the water. You’ll need to start preparing search warrants though – can’t risk having evidence being tossed out, after all.”

Delia couldn’t help the niggling feeling in the back of her head. The way this escort talked… it was familiar. “You’re a RAI undercover agent, aren’t you?”

“Finally pieced it together, Agent?” Eira wiggled her fingers at Delia. “Now stay hush-hush about that, won’t you? I need to be alive to finish out my contract to get my payout.”

Grimden cut in. “How are you sure about these locations?”

“I’ve been in them, obviously. My clients are from all around the place, but these Fomors are ones who hate their human forms and like to stew unrest, things like that. Rebels of another story, I suppose.” Eira checked her nails and then smoothed down her miniskirt.

“In terms of hidey-holes, Odhran runs an illegal operating room in downtown, Johanus took over an abandoned erg refinement factory to undercut the Royal Army’s medicine distribution checkpoints, and the Lamhfada Water Treatment Plant suddenly started operating again after being closed down six years ago by some Fomor no one can describe at all without getting one hell of a headache. All suspicious happenings – and the Royal Police didn’t seem too happy to check until now.”

The nightclub’s heavy bass covered up the sound of Grimden scrawling away in his notebook. “And the drug lab?”

Eira smiled. It was all shark teeth. “Right here in the Jardin. There’s an underground sewer connection right underneath the building being used to package and ship Johanus’s black market version of the Fomorian medicine to the other two locations. It’s a nasty thing – synthetic bloody shade, dissolvable in water, and lets Fomors stay undetected in their human forms while retaining their original abilities. Only caveat is that it’s fatal to pure humans upon skin contact – does nasty melty things, you see.”

“Thank you for the information.” Grimden snapped his pocket book shut. “We’ll need to rush job those search warrants, but luckily we can reach out to the Governor to expedite the process.”

As they left the room, Eira caught Delia’s arm, pulling her back one step. Grimden didn’t notice, too busy with uncomfortably walking around an escort that had trapped some lucky paying customer against the wall in the room next to theirs.

A small bottle that held what looked to be a few medicine pills was sneakily pressed into Delia’s hand. She looked at Eira, who batted her eyelashes as she leaned in close and whispered into her ear.

“They’re selling the fakes under a human prescription name. This little bit I swiped should be enough to submit for RAI sample testing.”

**RIZATRIPTAN, 10 mg**

Delia looked at the white pills in the bottle. She remembered seeing Rizatriptan before – Grimden’s prescription. A chill ran down her spine. With the medicine, Fomorians looked like ordinary humans, just perhaps a little less powerful. By circumventing the tight restrictions and control the Royal Army had on the overall supply, it wasn’t too farfetched that spies could infiltrate without anyone being wiser – just like the Royal Army Intelligence was already doing to the Fomorian Army.

What secrets were being kept?

* * *

**Unknown Location, Celestial Void**

From the entrance of the Fomorian Council chambers, Aes Sidhe sat in the ornate seat of the opulent gold and silver throne room, the light of otherworldly galaxies shifting from within his summoned form. To his immediate right, Arcana looked bored as she observed the two kneeling Fomorians.

“The price of failure… will not be tolerated.” The greater being’s voice echoed within the chambers, radiating absolute displeasure.

From his kneeling position, Cromm Cruaich looked up. “My Lord, we only wished—”

Cromm Cruaich’s head fell to the ground, severed by a spear. The corpse fell to the chamber floor, a black puddle of ichor spreading on the reflective marble.

Iset, her red hood drawn down in respect, remained silent as the puddle began to soak into her red desert cloak.

“No more excuses. Come, Arcana, Iset. We must prepare the summons to Eweca. The arrival of Balor will surely turn the tide.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Iset stood up and bowed deeply, releasing a slow breath of relief that Aes Sidhe had been merciful to her this time.

* * *

**Unknown Location, Berbhe**

“You will do just fine for my next vision.” A large, pale hand stroked the shaking young Nemedian’s fine brown curls. Muffled words filtered through the gag, laced with an undercurrent of absolute terror.

“Pray for your salvation, little sheep.” Lugh Lámfda forced the young priest to look to the front pew, where the unmoving and eye-less figure of Enok had been arranged with hands tied to a spear pierced through his chest in a mockery of an acolyte in mid-prayer. He pressed a hand over the man’s eyes, smiling as the pained screaming began. “Look into the light, and see your sins in full display…”


	5. Chapter Four

“Aodhan? Please have some tea. Did you get enough sleep? You look tired…” Aodhan startled in his seat when Tieve set down a mug of hot tea in front of him, along with some toast. The man managed to muster up a smile.

The petite young lady smiled back gently as she turned to Gwynn and Keaghan, placing down a mug of dark coffee.

“Thanks, Tieve.” Aodhan gratefully took a sip, letting the warmth soak through his worn out body. “Just not used to having a late start to the morning, almost didn’t want to get out of bed. It’s only 10 in the morning, and usually I’d already be at work.”

Keaghan chuckled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Well, with retirement for you just around the corner, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to it. Any thoughts on what you’ll do with all that free time?”

“Probably start up another multi-million private military contractor company just for fun.” Gwynn snorted as she took a sip of her coffee.

Tieve‘s laugh was clear as bells and refreshing in the cool morning of Ernmass’s bed and breakfast café. “Don’t say that! Aodhan, you have things planned already, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t, actually have anything _planned_ , per se…” Aodhan fiddled with the tag of the tea bag on the side of his mug. “But, my mother did get the approval to foster another child not too long ago, so… I’m thinking of trying to be at home more often. She’s getting older, and I’m not sure how she keeps up with that one. With less hours in the office now, it seemed sensible to consider.”

Keaghan nearly spat out his coffee through his nose. “Wait, you have foster kids? As in, more than one?”

“I’ll admit I didn’t do very well with raising the first two… it had been not that long after my wife and daughters had died. I wasn’t in the best headspace, barely could even take care of myself.” Aodhan’s resigned sigh was low, but steady. “But, it’s been more than a decade… I shouldn’t be wasting time with the kids I do have, even if they’re not of my blood. I’m an old man now, can’t keep going on without making amends.”

Tieve sat down in the only open seat left to Aodhan’s right after setting down the rest of the breakfast sandwiches. Her soft smile was genuine in its interest. “I don’t think I’ve heard this from you before, Aodhan. Do you have any pictures?”

Aodhan took out his phone. “I don’t usually keep my personal things on my phone – somehow I end up breaking all of them or losing them in gutters in pursuit – but I do have one with both of them in it saved in… what is it called? A cloud? Insta-something, I think.”

Once he figured out how to navigate to his photos, he handed his phone over to Tieve, who immediately giggled at the picture.

It was a candid photo, taken at an angle by a pre-teen girl with a mischievous grin on her face. Her hair was shockingly blue and cut in a cute little bob. Next to her was a woman with long black hair and a dragon-shaped hairpin, smiling widely as she held the phone out for their selfie.

The girl with the blue hair was doing a peace symbol, posing against a platinum-blond-haired man who was clearly dead asleep to the world on the couch, and the horizontal text across the picture said: **Oppa and Nuna visited – but the first thing Oppa does is fall asleep! Booooooo!**

The next picture was of the younger girl, but this time wearing a pair of glasses that clearly didn’t belong to her: **He is blind oh my goodness, how is he allowed to drive?!?!**

The final picture was with the man who woken up, fallen off the couch, and was in mid-reach for his glasses, which were being held away from him with a dainty hand at the corner of the picture. At this angle, it was clear that a Royal Police badge was pinned to the man’s shirt: **Oh no he’s going to arrest us for theft!**

“So cute! What are their names?” After the phone was passed around, Tieve handed it back.

“Grimden, Miri, and Belle.” Pointing to each one, Aodhan looked at the Belle’s toothy grin, the slight shadows underneath Miri’s eyes, and the visible stress lines on Grimden’s face. The phone screen darkened as a call went through, the default tone chirping excitedly in his hand.

The caller ID read ROCHESTE PREP. Aodhan frowned and picked up the call.

“Aodhan Emain speaking.”

“Good morning, sir. I see you are listed as the secondary contact for the student, Belle St. Nova? We weren’t able to get a response from the first contact, Yusey Emain.”

“My mother is currently at a doctor’s appointment. What happened?” Aodhan didn’t like where this sounded like it was going. He glanced at the three others around the table, who were obviously listening in.

“There’s been an incident at the school regarding your daughter, Belle… would you be able to come in? There are a few things that need to be discussed.”

Aodhan checked his watch. He was due to start work in 10 minutes – the CBDC headquarters were only a few minutes walk away from Ernmass’s little café, after all. “I’ll send someone to pick her up. Who is listed as the third contact?”

There was a shuffling of papers. “Grimden Kasana… your son, Mr. Emain?”

“Yes, I’ll send him over shortly.”

There was a pause. “Alright, Mr. Emain. Please let him know to stop by the front office first to check in.” 

He ended the call, and then immediately went to his contacts. He pressed the one labeled **_Grim** and waited for an answer.

After two rings, it picked up. The voice on the other end was raspy, like he’d just woken up after a rough night. Aodhan didn’t fault him – it was only 10 AM, and Grimden usually worked graveyard shifts. “Kasana speaking.”

“Belle had an incident at the school. Can you pick her up? You’re closer to her than I am, unfortunately.”

There was a moment of silence, before he received a quiet response. “Yes, sir.”

The call cut before he could get out a “Thank you.”

Aodhan sighed. At the other three’s inquiring looks, he relented. “Grimden and I don’t have the warmest relationship. I wasn’t exactly the easiest person to talk to either, when they first came in as fosters. He and Miri… definitely did not the best childhood before my mother took them in. I’ve been working on bridging that gap, but with our work schedules, it’s taken years to get to this point – even more so after he joined the Royal Police. Miri is much the same, with her own career in the Royal Police, but even then, we don’t talk much anymore. Belle is a lot easier to get along with, but I’ve been able to spend more time with her in comparison to those two… I just feel so guilty most days, like I should have done more…”

Tieve patted Aodhan’s hand, her smile encouraging. “Have some faith. He picked up your call, that’s definitely something. Family is family, after all.”

* * *

“Where are we going?” Delia watched as the familiar roadways of the Berbhe-Rocheste connection gave way to that of Rocheste’s more prestigious inner districts. They were actually getting closer to where the Royal Police’s main headquarters from the mental map she had in her mind.

When she agreed to getting out of the FOS for some fresh air after being elbow-deep in evidence and migraine-inducing theories from their latest findings while waiting for the search warrants to be approved, Delia didn’t expect to end up back in Rocheste.

Grimden parked the car at a civilian parking lot behind what looked to be the back of the Royal Police station. “I have a… personal matter to take care of. It shouldn’t take very long, no more than an hour total, and then we can head back. There’s a coffee shop just across the street that has some good bagels, so…”

“I can wait.” Delia tried to hide her curiosity as she got out the car. “Do you want something from the coffee shop?”

“No, not really.” Grimden did try to hand her twenty bucks out of his wallet, though. “Here, for the inconvenience.”

Delia raised an eyebrow at the handout. After a long moment in which she did not touch the money, Grimden put the money back into his wallet, and then shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

“I don’t usually do this, but it’s an emergency. I’ll be right back.”

Delia waved her hand, trying to keep from laughing at the mildly embarrassed expression on his face. “Come find me when you’re done.”

Grimden nodded curtly and then walked away quickly. He looked over his shoulder once before he disappeared around the corner.

Delia bought herself a cappuccino and settled in for a wait. Mentally, she went through what her contact had told her about the properties of Rizatriptan just an hour ago.

_“It’s a run-of-the-mill prescription for migraines. That prescription though… usually won’t see that large of a dose except for barely-functioning war veterans.” Even over a tinny phone call, Enzo sounded amused and somewhat high, as usual. The clacking of the keyboard as he typed was audible even over the noise of an incredibly busy Royal Army Intelligence Biomedical Division. “On the other hand… it’s also the main ingredient in synthesizing Berbhe’s Fomorian medicine. So, this Captain of yours… you think he’s on the edge of crazy or something?”_

_“Thank you, Enzo.” Delia ended the call. She stared at the medicine bottle that Eira had given her, wondering which one of the two options were the truth._

The door to the coffee shop opened, bringing Delia out of her thoughts. Grimden walked in, accompanied by a twelve-year-old girl with shockingly blue hair. She skipped over to the counter, dragging a reluctant Grimden with her as she ordered a unicorn sparkle ice cream latte.

The girl did a twirl on her toes, chattering animatedly and mimicking a nasty right hook punch against an invisible target. Delia could see the start of a bruise forming on her cheek, not quite hidden behind the beaming smile on her face.

After a few more minutes, Grimden and the girl finally wandered over to where she was seated. The seasonal special unicorn sparkle drink was almost as big as the girl’s head.

“Oppa, **_she’s_** your partner?!” The girl nearly dropped her drink as she bounced up and down excitedly. Her accent was familiar… but it was definitely not from around here, though. “Your hair and makeup are ** _amazing!_** I bet she’s a secret princess!”

Delia tried her best to not laugh as she smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm.

“Belle…” The warning note in Grimden’s voice was not harsh. In fact, it was rather fond. “Delia, this is my younger sister. Belle, this is Delia, my current partner at work.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Belle.” Delia’s eyes lingered over the bruise on her cheek.

The girl puffed up her cheeks, standing proud and grinning. “Today I beat up a bully! I’m gonna be an officer when I grow up so I can beat up all of the bullies, just like Oppa and Nuna!”

“I don’t beat up bullies... I arrest them, lawfully.” Grimden set a hand on the girl’s thin shoulder. “Now, since you’ve been suspended from school, as the local authority within the immediate vicinity, I have a legal obligation to take you home now… even if I do agree that the kid deserved a punch to the face, okay?”

“Aww…” Belle pouted, and then she aimed a pair of watery puppy eyes at Grimden. “Don’t tell Dad? He’d throw a fit… and Nuna, too…”

“I won’t, although it’s your responsibility to tell Grandma what happened.” To Delia, Grimden sighed apologetically. “Sorry to ask you to wait some more, but I’ll be back soon enough after dropping her off.”

“Come with us!” Belle nearly toppled over the table as she leaned over, her smile as bright as the sun. “We can talk about make up and how do you keep your hair so shiny like that and boys—"

“None of that!” Grimden scowled. “You’re going straight home, and then Delia and I are going back to work. We’re in the middle of a case—”

Cutting through the siblings’ argument, Delia said, “It’s alright. We need a break from the paperwork and we’re still waiting for the warrants, anyways.”

Grimden’s eyes went wide, at a loss for words; a barely-noticeable flush creeped up his neck. Belle cheered and grabbed Delia’s hand, tugging her along with her to the door and oblivious to the internal crisis for foster brother was having in the background.

* * *

Meeting Grandmother was like meeting the grandma Delia wished she had. Instead of a scarecrow-like and distant bitter old woman she’d hardly known in her life, Grimden and Belle’s grandma was tiny and practically bursting at the seams with the simple joys of life.

It was clear where Belle got her energy, at least.

“Dear, won’t you stay for a little longer? You haven’t visited much, and I’ve been worried about you running around chasing those dangerous criminals! Especially you, Delia, it was so nice to meet you! Such a polite and wonderful young lady!” The tiny old woman was talking animatedly, somehow without needing to breathe. She pressed several wrapped containers of leftovers that were ready to microwave into Grimden’s hands, despite his quiet protesting.

“Such a shame that my grandson doesn’t bring many guests over!” To Delia, unashamedly and incredibly loudly with such cheer, the Grandma asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, do you have a boyfriend? If not, I’d suggest—”

“Time to go, bye Grandma.” Grimden’s free hand clamped onto Delia’s shoulder, basically dragging her towards the entryway of the humble house.

Delia’s eyes caught on one of the few pictures that lined the hallway.

One picture was of a much younger Grimden standing next to a young girl with black hair, who looked very similar to Officer Miri. They were both in school uniforms, stiff-backed and looking very serious at the camera.

Another picture featured a familiar man – Captain Aodhan from the Crimson Blades Defense Contractors, if she remembered correctly – was standing next to a younger-looking Grimden in an undecorated Royal Police uniform. Both of them were not smiling, but they didn’t look particularly uncomfortable either.

In the car, Delia and Grimden were silent until they passed the city limits. The afternoon sun peeked through clouds, eventually disappearing behind the omnipresent overcast hanging over Berbhe.

“My Grandma can be… intense and… incredibly invasive. Sorry if she made you uncomfortable.” Grimden spoke first, his tone surprisingly shy for someone who usually was as steady as a rock. 

“No, she wasn’t… your Grandma’s great, really.” Delia took one look at the embarrassed flush tinting Grimden’s face and started laughing softly.

Her laugh trailed off when she thought of her own family. “My grandma was nothing like yours. She was often… cold. Liked to rap me across the knuckles with a ruler because I’d rather go climb trees than learn how to sew or dance.”

Grimden was silent, taking in the words both spoken and unspoken. Delia continued, her smile fading slowly from her face.

“I have three older brothers, and none of them would have been as happy as Belle if I showed up. My father’s only care for me was to arrange for me to marry a family friend’s son to get access to their money. We haven’t talked since I walked away from that. My mother was the only one who supported me going to the Academy, but… even then, unless I reach out first, I might as well not exist next to my brothers.”

Silence hung in the air as Delia looked out of the passenger window, feeling the weight on her shoulders that she had previously ignored in regards to her family. “…Your family really does love you. I’m glad you have people like them, with the kind of work we do.”

It wasn’t until they were in the parking lot of the FOS that Grimden finally spoke. “Do you want to talk some more inside? We still have some more free time.”

Delia looked over and saw genuine concern and warmth in those haunted eyes. It took a moment for her to realize that silent tears were trailing down her face and that her hands were shaking in her lap. Her breath rattled in chest as anxiety crawled along her spine like an insidious disease.

* * *

“I don’t remember my real parents, but I know I’d most likely be dead somewhere in a ditch if I didn’t have Grandma, Miri, Belle, and my foster father.” Grimden exhaled a long trail of smoke up to the sky, the cigarette in his hand already burnt down halfway. He leaned against the railing of the FOS second floor’s balcony, staring off towards the other cities far in the distance.

Delia clutched at her mug of hot tea, letting the heat soak into her cold hands. She couldn’t stop shaking, no matter how hard she concentrated, and it was like static was ringing in her mind. It was hard to focus on anything beyond her next breath of fresh air.

Grimden didn’t wait for a response before he continued speaking, his voice steady and even. “There’s a toll we pay when we do the kind of jobs that the other departments don’t even touch with a twenty-foot pole. If I see these kinds of things for the rest of my life, but my family lives safely for the rest of theirs… it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“But… how do you sleep. How _can_ you sleep?” Delia’s fingers tightened around the mug, the hard ceramic grounding her.

Grimden glanced at her, taking in another drag of his cigarette. “Talking helps, especially when we’ve seen the same kind of things. It’s not a perfect system, but it takes the edge off just enough to keep functioning.”

After a moment, Delia turned to look at the man, a slight smile on her face. The bleak thoughts hiding in her expression softened, just enough for now. “That sounds familiar.”

“I read the paper you published when it came out. After I finished it, I drove to the RPD’s offsite clinic and got my prescription filled for the first time. I’ve been taking it every day since. You saved my life without even knowing, and I’ll always be thankful for that. So… take as long as you need. I’m here to listen.” Grimden smiled softly back at her.

Delia tucked her bangs behind an ear. She looked down at her mug, and then at Grimden. “When this case is over… do you want to go get some coffee? I think I don’t mind talking with you.”

Grimden ducked his head, almost shy. “When it’s over, sure.”

A tentative knock on the glass door had the both of them turning around. Officer Arthyen stood there, wringing his hands nervously, before sliding open the door a few inches.

“Captain, Agent, we’ve got the search warrants ready. Our orders?”

Grimden stubbed out his cigarette against the railing, his expression returning to his usual stern look. “Grab Officer Miri. We’ve got a drug lab to bust.”


	6. Chapter Five

**_12 Hours Later…_ **

Grimden woke up to a harsh pounding rattling around in his skull, the pain centered right behind his eyes. Sitting up slowly, he tried to focus his blurry vision against the wooden floors of the FOS’s second story makeshift lounge, and then immediately felt the urge to vomit out the contents of his stomach.

His hands shook as he reached blindly for his prescription medicine. Twisting open the cap, a chill ran down his spine when he saw that there was nothing inside.

He blinked, slowly, and then found himself standing in front of the sink. Disorientated, he staggered over to the door of the restroom and found one of his shadows left in where he was previously sitting.

His shadow clone turned to stare at him, facial features muted and melting into itself. Then, it smiled mockingly, showcasing jagged teeth that stretched past human constraints.

Grimden almost knocked over a lamp as he opened up a storage cabinet that he and the others stored their jackets in. He checked all of the pockets of the hanging jackets as quickly as he could. When his hand closed around a familiar orange bottle, he let out a low sigh of relief and let his head rest against the cool metal of the cabinet.

Without bothering to read the label, he shook out a pill and swallowed it, just in time to realize that he was now standing by the whiteboard on the first floor. The haze of disorientation and agony gnawing at his nerves receded just enough for him to feel himself pulling back together into something more solid.

Another blink, and he was back in front of the storage cabinet. He was holding onto… Delia’s jacket?

Why did he pull a medicine bottle out of Delia’s jacket?

The door to makeshift lounge burst open.

“Captain!” Miri’s eyes were wide with panic. “Jornin and the Agent are missing! Macklin phoned in, saying that he and Delia went out to look for her earlier, but suddenly lost contact with her at the Temple.”

A wave of dread crashed into Grimden. He grabbed his own jacket from where it was slung over a chair, slamming shut the storage cabinet’s door. “Get the car ready. We’re going to the Temple.”

Miri saluted and full-on sprinted down the stairs.

Grimden grabbed his pistol, fitting it into his shoulder holster. It took only a second of hesitation before he grabbed his Katamadhar – an eight-inch serrated combat knife easily hidden in the holster strapped to his arm. It was an assassin’s tool, intended to inflict the worst kind of pain and suffering before the sweet release of death.

The Damascus steel material of the knife gleamed in the blood red light of Eweca filtering in through the glass balcony doors. 

* * *

The Temple’s heavy wooden doors were ajar when they arrived. In his undead form, Macklin was face down in the dirt at the front, thankfully unconscious instead of dead. An ambulance was quickly dispatched to the scene, and then Grimden took point in clearing the church.

The scene inside the Temple was nothing short of sacrilegious. Lechaud, the local Nemedian priest, was arranged at the podium. The bloodless corpse, standing upright only with the help of the spear he was chained to, held open a book of scriptures coated in human blood. The skin of his back had been split open and posed in a grotesque mimicry of the same wings he would pray to. 

In the frontmost pew, a praying Enok sat silent, his head bowed, hiding his empty eyesockets. The ghostly moonlight of Eweca filtered in through the glass-stained ceiling, bathing the interior of the Temple with a wash of maroon.

 **I SHALL RISE ONCE AGAIN** was scrawled across the wall in blood and ichor.

Behind the marble pulpit, the statue of Cichol had been toppled over, the stone wings the only thing left intact in the pile of rubble. The absence of the statue revealed an entrance leading downwards towards what would likely be the ancient Catacombs that predated the Temple’s foundation. 

“This must have been how the killer was able to get around Berbhe unnoticed.” Arthyen swallowed thickly as they ascended the stairs, his flashlight barely able to pierce the darkness stretching in front.

Miri stepped over the dusty bones of a disturbed grave, her stomach twisting into knots at just how many resting places had been cruelly shoved through or outright destroyed. Her flashlight shone onto simple words carved into the stone ceiling. “North, West, South… the Temple must be the East entrance, then.”

“Northwards should be downtown Berbhe… west would be Donegal, and to the south, Lochlann.” Grimden’s flashlight illuminated another hallway of bones and dust. “The killer couldn’t have gone far while holding onto two people. Arthyen, go north. Miri, take west. I’ll go south. We can’t let them escape.”

“Copy that, Captain. I’ll report as soon as I see anything.” With his gun raised, Arthyen ran into the darkness, vanishing from sight after a few steps.

“Grimden.” Miri’s eyes glowed red in the dim lighting. Her lips twisted into a nervous smile. “Good luck.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Grimden turned the safety off his gun, holding it ready.

Miri nodded and then took off, the faint sound of a dragon’s wings flapping echoing faintly through the ancient stone corridor heading westward.

Grimden followed the path leading south, hoping he would be fast enough.

* * *

“You’re the one whose been poisoning the water supply.” Jornin, in her small gremlin form, chirped out nervously from where she had been tied up and unceremoniously tossed on the dirty floor of the Lamhfada Water Treatment Plant. To her left, Delia struggled against the iron grip of the menacing humanoid Fomor holding a familiar spear had on her throat.

The Fomor sneered as he dangled Delia a good ten feet above the ground. “Such a stain on the greatness of the Fomorian race. Were it not for the traitorous scum that needed to be dealt with first in Berbhe, I’d have long since wiped out the pitiful remnants of your race, human – especially since you have denied me my right to kill my father.”

“What… father…” Delia wheezed out the words the best she could.

The Fomor snarled, eyes shining bright with electric energy. “Don’t play stupid, human. Your government executed my father, Mannanan. It was my divine right to kill him! He imprisoned me for centuries, denying me my rightful place as the King of Fomors, and only once I was able to escape from the weakened Fragarach that I find he is already dead. I will have my revenge… starting with you, human. By the time I am done, there will be none on this realm but my worshipful army, imbued with the power of the bloody shade, crying out my name – Lugh Lamhfada!”

The Fomor’s frenzied face suddenly turned, a spear rising up to deflect a few bullets aimed at his head. He raised a hand, forming numerous spears within a few seconds, and then sent it flying towards the ceiling of the water treatment plant. The large spears crunched through the metal rafters above, hitting nothing except for faint ghostly afterimages.

A blurred figure dropped down near the front doors of the facility’s main room, and then darted off to the side behind some water tanks. Another spray of bullets was blocked by the side of the spear that Lugh was holding.

“A rat comes out to play!” Lugh’s grip tightened around Delia’s neck.

Her vision blurred as she gasped for oxygen that would not come. Suddenly, she felt herself thrown into something metal, the hard material denting behind her back. Delia could feel that she’d likely broken a rib, if not several, from how hard the impact was. She got to her feet unsteadily, wiping the trail of blood from her mouth on the sleeve of her white blouse.

The metal water tank she had crashed into groaned dangerously and Delia’s eyes focused just fast enough for her to see that the structure holding the water tank in place had broken. The nearly 25 ft tall container abruptly tilted, sending the water it was holding flowing out from the top.

The memory of a sly woman’s giggle echoed in her mind: _“Only caveat is that it’s fatal to pure humans upon skin contact – does nasty melty things, you see.”_

She was going to die. The unstoppable rush of tainted water was falling closer with each millisecond that she stood there, her legs trembling and locked in place from the pain radiating through her body, the concussion making it hard to even see straight—

Delia suddenly crashed to the floor, stunned and confused. Wisps of harmless black smoke faded from where they had curled around her body. Scrambling to her feet, completely dry, she found herself leaning against another water tank—? She stumbled around the tank, using the side to balance.

Grimden was standing the place where she had been, soaked completely from head to toe. Black wisps of smoke steamed off of him in great plumes. His hands were over his eyes, his gun lying forgotten on the floor as he shook uncontrollably.

Delia felt a hand grab her, this time by the arm. The crazed laughing booming in her ears had her trying to twist away, an animalistic fear taking control as she kicked and punched at whatever she could reach.

“Take that!” Jornin’s shrill screech was accompanied by a terrified squawk as Lugh turned around to face the gremlin that had broken free of her chains. He picked off the tiny knife that had been thrown into his thigh.

“You little—”

A streak of white-blue light blinded Delia’s vision. She felt herself being dropped to the ground, and she landed on her feet, somehow retaining enough momentum to roll forward and out of the way. A giant X made of crackling blue and white electricity had been seared onto Lugh’s body, burning through his clothes. The Fomor screamed in pain and took a few steps back.

In the handful of seconds that passed, Delia looked up as a shadow passed over her head, her mouth opening in surprise.

Grimden was mid-air in a jump, completely wrapped in that wispy black smoke. His eyes were glowing vibrantly blue, leaving a light trail behind as he braced against another water tank tower, before shooting forward with a brilliant burst of light and **_phased_** through the glowing X on Lugh’s chest. The long blade in his hand glowed white in the light.

The resulting spray of Fomorian ichor had Delia turning away to protect her face against the mess.

Lugh Lamhfada stumbled, and then dropped to the ground. The place where his heart would have been was blackened and smoking, the X gouged into his flesh cut clean through.

The silence that permeated through the room was deafening, even with Delia’s rapid heartbeat pounding in her ears.

* * *

**_K iL L eR! kI LLEr! aS SaSIn!_ **

****

_The cacophony of mixed voices screamed furiously at him, filling up every inch of his mind. Fear, fear was all he could feel, the fear of his targets staring at him with their fearful eyes as he cut them apart, following exactly as he had been told, hoping to live another day in their place—_

**_yOu WiLL nEvER eSCapE! nUmBEr tHirTEen! yOu’Re neXT!_ **

_A gloved hand reaching out, the bright light of a fluorescent beam, surrounded by shadows all grinning and watching him fall deeper into the comfort of his concrete-walled cell, wishing to feel pain, or anything that wasn’t just cold and dark and Goddess there was just so much blood—_

**_tHis IS whAT yOu ArE mADe fOR! kIlL! KiLL! KILL!_ **

Grimden felt his tenuous grip on realty getting harder and harder to control. His hands were shaking so hard, flickering between real flesh and blood and the weightlessness of being little more than a shadow cast against the floor. He couldn’t see anything beyond the black haze eating at eyes and the sight of the full blood red moon shining from above, where the ceiling of the facility had crumbled away long ago.

He fell to his knees, letting the knife slip from his incorporeal grasp. He thought he’d escaped, but maybe this was another trick of his unstable mind, and he was still there, crawling amongst the screaming and the dying and the dead, waiting for bloodlust and raw terror to take over—

The sight of a figure made of bright starlight, so warm in its brilliance that it almost hurt to look at, burned away the blackening haze. The voices crying out faded, leaving nothing but blissful silence in its wake.

Gentle fingers reached out to wipe at his eyes, clearing away the madness.

Her relieved smile was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.

* * *

**_1 Hour Later…_ **

“Make sure he doesn’t do anything dangerous on the way home, you hear? I can only take so much stupidity in one day.” The Governor’s dry exasperation did little to cover up the grin on his face as he tucked away an unopened pack of cigarettes.

“Yes, sir. Apologies again for not waiting for backup, but the situation was… dire.” Delia glanced over at Grimden, who was sitting at the back of an ambulance, getting patched up by a paramedic. Not too far away was Jornin, back in her human form, being treated for her minor bruises and scrapes.

He was fine, she told herself. Grimden was still alive and physically there.

A chill crawled up Delia’s spine as she recalled seeing the man flickering between being solid and pure black smoke, along with the terrifying monstrous shadows forming out of nothingness around him.

“I’ve always known he’s a Nemedian. It’s why I asked him to run the Fomorian Investigation Unit. He’s the best one for it. It’s hard to get any humans to care about the defectors or the Nemedians out here.” The Governor easily followed the direction of her gaze. “They’re still people with lives worth something. If we forget that, we might as well just lose the war now.”

Delia looked back over to the Governor. The man still looked tired and had the hint of overgrown stubble overtaking his face, but the haunting look had receded for now. The Berbe-Lamhfada Murders case was officially closed now that the culprit was dead and the Bloody Shade operations were in the final stages of being dismantled.

Things would return to normal soon enough, even if the memories of this place would stay with her for a long time afterwards.

The Governor sighed. “I’m real fuckin’ glad that all of this shit is over now. We couldn’t have done it without help from all sides, and I’ll be sure to throw in my praise for your superiors if you need it, Agent Zenith.”

“Thank you, Governor. That would be very much appreciated.” Delia would be returning back to the Royal Army Intelligence in a few days to debrief with the Administrator, and then would be on leave for at least a week while she waited for her next assignment.

“So… now that you’re not technically under my jurisdiction anymore…”

Delia raised an eyebrow at the shit-eating grin that came over the Governor’s face.

“You tap his ass yet? It’s a good ass—”

“Sir!” Delia flushed and looked away. “That’s inappropriate!”

“What? I have eyes, I can see the both of you tiptoeing around each other for the past week. C’mon, it’s like watching one of those drama shows for Goddess’s sake.” Gallagher cackled, and then broke off for a wheezing cough that sounded rough and raspy. “Eugh, I should quit smoking, fuck.”

The Governor waved away Delia’s attempts to pat him on the back as he recovered from his coughing fit. “Alright, alright, that’s probably my cue to leave. Keep out of trouble, Agent, and hopefully we’ll see you again in better times.”

Delia watched as Gallagher ambled away, the tap of his cane against the gravel fading into the noise of the first responders and other officers working the scene. Now alone in the sea of flashing neon lights of the cruisers and ambulances, she made her decision and headed over to where Grimden was sitting.

“How is he?”

At her perfunctory tone, the paramedic – a young woman with a distant look in her eyes – turned to her. The name embroidered onto her uniform read _Dianann_.

“He has a sprained ankle and wrist, but other than some rest for his exhaustion and over the counter painkillers, he’s good to go. I’d suggest against having him operate any heavy machinery until he gets some sleep, however.” The paramedic’s eyes flicked over to the other ambulance, her gaze stopping on Jornin. “Excuse me, officers. I need to talk to my sister.”

The paramedic hurried over to the other vehicle, leaving the two of them alone.

“Agent. You’re heading back to the RAI now? Case is closed.” Grimden gave Delia a tired look from underneath the mess of his wet hair that was in his face, which shone a pale silver in the fluorescent lighting of the ambulance interior. He had a large towel around his shoulders and his jacket was in a crumpled pile next to him, but he was still wearing his soaked officer’s uniform. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know what to do now that all the adrenaline had drained from his body.

Delia sat down next to him. “You heard the medic’s orders. No driving, so I’ll take you back to FOS. I’m sure you’d like to change into something that isn’t soaked in… evidence.”

“You… you don’t have the do that.” Grimden’s reply was quiet as he looked anywhere except at her. “I can have Miri or Arthyen take me.”

“It’s no trouble.” Delia gave him a soft smile. “And my name’s Delia, remember? Not Agent. I thought we’ve moved past that by now.”

Grimden met her look with that same shy expression she had caught once before on that balcony, where they had shared a story and some tea. He rummaged through the pockets of his uniform jacket and then tossed over his keys.

“If you say so, Delia. Car’s behind the cruisers over there.”

* * *

The ride back to the FOS was quiet, since Grimden passed out in the passenger seat not too long after Delia started driving. He woke up a minute before they arrived, sitting up stiffly in his seat as the building came into sight.

The FOS was cleared out now, as if they had never operated out of the abandoned office in the first place. All of the boxes of evidence, their files, and even the board at the back with the photographs had been taken by the RAI and the Royal Police back to headquarters for further compiling. Miri and Arthyen had long since returned to their respective homes in Rocheste and Colhen for the night now that the case was closed.

The only things that remained now were what their personal items, such as spare uniforms and the makeshift beds in the second floor’s converted lounge that the unit had been temporarily using for the past few weeks.

Throwing his wet jacket over a chair, Grimden immediately went over to his locker to pull out a set of spare clothes and then headed over to the restroom to change.

Delia busied herself with making herself some hot tea in the breakroom. After tonight, she definitely wouldn’t say no to something stronger, but there wasn’t any alcohol in this place so she would have to make do for now. With a few tugs at her hairpins, she shook out her hair so that it flowed freely over her shoulders and took in a few deep breaths to relax the tension from her shoulders.

Footsteps that stopped by the doorway had her turning around, two mugs of tea in her hands.

Now in dry clothes and with his hair combed back to its usual style, Grimden looked much more comfortable as he reached out and took the mug that was being offered.

“Thanks.” His voice was little more than a murmur. He cleared his throat and then gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “Want to go out to the balcony for a bit?”

“Sure.” Delia held up her own mug, taking a sip first – for courage.

On the balcony, Berbhe stretched out for miles before stopping at the looming border walls and the highway tunnel that connected the city to Rocheste. Without the looming presence of a serial killer stalking the city limits, the neon lights dotting the dark landscape were much more numerous now as its citizens finally were able to go about and live out their daily routines in relative safety once more. Somewhere in the distance, a siren went off.

Grimden leaned against the railing. Delia did the same, leaving less than half a foot of space between their arms.

After a long moment of silence, Grimden spoke, haltingly, “What you saw earlier, with Lugh Lamhfada— I hope I didn’t give you the impression of that I am some… horrendous killing machine. I haven’t… I haven’t lost control like that since I was a child, before I was fostered. I thought I left all of that behind a long time ago, but… I would understand, however, if you don’t want to associate with someone like me—”

Delia reached out and grasped at his shirt, tugging him down just enough for her to kiss him hard. A calloused hand went to her waist, long fingers curling around her hip to bring her flush against his solid and warm body.

When they parted, breathless, she smiled widely at the cute blush that was crawling up the pale skin of his neck and ears. How could a man who looked so strong and heroic be so adorably shy?

“Want to get breakfast tomorrow at Caryl’s? I’m free for a few days before I have to go back to Headquarters.”

“Y-yeah.” It took a moment Grimden to process her words, and then he hid his embarrassed smile behind his mug of tea. He was still holding onto her, although he had shifted to wrap his arm around her more securely. “Sure, breakfast sounds perfect.”


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire story so there would be a basis for this epilogue scene, haha. Thanks for reading!

“Are you bringing someone to our 45th anniversary? You know your father worries about you being all alone, in a different country…”

Just finished with arranging her hair, Delia stifled her groan at the familiar argument as she pinned her braid into place. “Mom, I’ve been busy with work! You know that…”

“Not to be such a worrywart, but it’s been years since I’ve last saw you with someone.”

“Moooom…” Delia groaned at the familiar prodding at her personal life. “I swear, I’m not going to be a crazy cat lady when I turn 30, okay?”

From where her laptop was propped up on the vanity’s desk, Delia’s Mother sighed heavily, her voice tinny through the speakers. The older woman looked a bit worried, her thin eyebrows furrowed down in an expression of well-meaning motherly nosiness. “Well, how is work? From what you can tell me, of course. Your older brothers rarely have anything good to say about their own lives...”

“It’s classified, Mom… I’d like to tell you, but I really can’t either.” With a quick swipe, Delia applied some lip gloss. With minimal makeup and a touch of eyeshadow, she looked exactly as she wanted to: professional and neat, ready for another day of kicking ass and taking names.

Her thermos of coffee, sweetened just the way she liked it, settled down by her elbow with a quiet clink. Delia turned her head, a fiery blush quickly making its way onto her face when she realized that Grimden had just walked past behind her in little more than a pair of loose sweatpants and still somewhat wet from his shower.

Oh no.

“Dear… who was that?” Her mother’s smile turned sharp and deadly.

“Mom, I was going to tell you earlier—” Delia laughed nervously, turning down the volume on the laptop just in time for her mother’s high-pitched squeal of excitement.

From the kitchen table, Grimden glanced over in curiosity, his own cup of coffee half-raised up to his mouth. Delia muted her laptop’s microphone.

“You do know you just walked in front of my mother, right?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah… go put a shirt on. I don’t think we’re going to be able to get out of going to my parents’ anniversary now that they know you exist.”

“What a shame.” Grimden headed into their room and started rummaging around for actual clothes to wear

Delia turned her microphone back on. Her mother had been oblivious, still talking at a mile-a-minute.

“—and you’ll give me his measurements for the suit, right honey? Perhaps a navy will work best—”

“Mom! He’ll be fine, I’ll take care of the dresswear, it’s not that difficult to coordinate. Just email me the color swatches and— oh Goddess, why are you wearing that?” Delia resisted the urge to facepalm when her boyfriend finally emerged.

Grimden raised an eyebrow, his fingers combing through his hair. He was in his full formal Royal Police Captain’s uniform, badges and all. “Press conference with the Governor in an hour, remember? I set out your uniform as well, just so you know.”

Delia smiled nervously at her mother, who had quieted down. She turned the laptop a bit to the right so that she could get Grimden into the screen. “Mom, meet my boyfriend, Grimden. Grimden, meet my mom.”

“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Grimden raised a hand, smiling his best non-intimidating smile.

“Pleasure to meet you too, although none of that Ma’am nonsense – call me Elaine. You work with my daughter? Are you part of the Royal Army as well? Where did you two me—”

Delia cut off her mother, speaking quickly. “Mom, we’d love to talk but we need to go to work now so bye! Love you!” 

Delia ended the video call and put her face into her hands. “I can’t believe you just casually walked in front of my mother like that…”

“Is it that bad?” Grimden walked over and propped his chin on top of Delia’s head.

Delia couldn’t help the smile that appeared at her lips. “Oh, I don’t know if I ever told you, but you do realize that I’m from the royal family of Taratha, right? So we’ll have to go find a tailor for you next week, since now we’ve committed to the anniversary party.”

Grimden immediately stood up straight. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” Delia turned around, still smiling. “You just walked by, half-naked, in front of the Queen of Taratha. Congratulations. You’ll be the talk of the party when we get there, _trust me_.” 

“Goddess save my soul.” Grimden’s hands covered his face. It was his turn to flush red in embarrassment.


End file.
